


Clean

by MeGaLoTrash



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bone cleaning, Consent Issues, Explicit Sexual Content, Horror Elements, Knotting, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Control, Oral Sex, Pain Kink, Please read extra warning in notes, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Unidentified threat, grey morality, olfactophillia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 13:39:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18032774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeGaLoTrash/pseuds/MeGaLoTrash
Summary: **Please check the notes, this is not a straight non-con fic**You can find details about Edentalehere, including amasterpiece of Edentale!Papyruswhich I'd go for reference!This is currently a self-contained au, so their aren't any nicknames in use in this fic.For the creator of this au, AelEkaya, who let me play with their boys :)





	Clean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> *****SPOILER NOTES*****  
> Not a straight non-con in that character A (sans) purposefully doesn't care about character B(papyrus)'s consent. They think they have it and are HEAVILY incapacitated by a third-party force (seen as a god incorrectly) controlling both their actions and making character B. Consent is not given though so I wouldn't feel comfortable tagging as dub-con. I hope this is the best way for everyone to make an informed decision about reading the fic.

Sans always tried to conduct himself in a professional manner that befit his station at all times. But there was nothing he could do to control the slight spring in his step as he made his way through the underground today. 

The position of Lord executioner was one that rightfully commanded both respect and fear. Those who were pure of soul and abiding in their worship fell into the first camp, everyone in the second only stayed there for a short time. They all came to see things Sans’s, and by extension, the church’s way after going through their correction. Those who didn’t… it was safe to say Sans dealt with them as swiftly as possible. It was an act of mercy, he’d had that drilled into him from his first day at the academy. Sinners who couldn’t repent were not meant for this world. 

Sans had just come from a repentant monster’s home now, the last on his round for the morning. They had cried into his cloak and apologised profusely for their wrongdoings. Sans had heard many confessions in his time, but it never failed to warm his soul when he could see their sincerity. It meant they were on the path to forgiveness, and that they wouldn’t need any more correcting from him. Sans gave them all the comfort they needed gladly, tending to the wounds he’d inflicted mere days ago with the utmost care until their time was up. It was a successful meeting, one he couldn’t wait to write up in his report. But Sans was used to this kind of reaction. It wasn’t the reason for the waves of excitement he felt as he made his way through the flora-lined streets. 

Today was special. His absolute favourite day of the week. Today was his scheduled time alone with his brother. 

Sans made his way from the cramped living quarters back up towards New Home, going through the motions of greeting both peasant and official alike. He could feel the cares and trials of the week falling off him like dew on a leaf with each step he took. The best part was that _no one_ was going to stop him. Everyone knew what he was going to do and knew that he was the only monster who could perform it to the highest standard. Sans knew his brother better than anyone, knew what he liked and what he didn’t, and could read the slightest change in his demeanour where others saw nothing. It was why he had been blessed with the honour of being his brother’s caretaker.

Even before Papyrus went down his holy path, Sans enjoyed getting to spend time alone with his brother. Secretly, of course. It was never wise to show any weakness in the world they lived in. They had been cruelly discarded as children, thrown into the same shithole of an orphanage with only each other to cling onto. Most would look upon their upbringing with disgust. Sans saw it as the beginning of their unbreakable bond. Sans was barely able to look after himself being the younger of the two, but his brother was there for him. They didn’t need anyone else. 

Papyrus supported him for years, then in turn, Sans went down the path that supported them both when he took his vows. Papyrus hadn’t always been on board with the idea, he would’ve been happy with a simple life as peasants. Sans never spoke of it, but his ambition for more had landed him in hot water. His decision to take on the role of executioner was nothing compared to the alternative. He and Papyrus made do as best they could though, striving to keep up some sense of normality in the home that the church has provided. Those moments were the only ones that Sans felt he didn’t need to worry about his image or who he was _meant_ to be. He knew it was childish, to even enjoy the respite from what he’d fought so hard to accomplish, but it wasn’t for purely selfish reasons. He knew Papyrus had enjoyed their time together.

_He still enjoys it!_ Sans reminded himself. 

Just like Papyrus disapproved of his path, Sans had initially thought that the life of a simple carpenter was a waste. He’d been blind to the bigger picture though. He remembered the day his brother had come to him to reveal his true calling with crystal clarity. All the prophecies, the constant praying for salvation and an end to their suffering, had finally come true. Sans always knew they would, he would feel it in his soul every time he carried out the Gods justice. And now his acts of mercy on the troubled souls were being rewarded. The gods had chosen Papyrus to be their host. Their seed had already taken hold deep inside him and was growing around his bones at a rapid rate by the time he’d found the courage to tell Sans.

Their relationship changed the moment Papyrus allowed Sans to embrace him that final time. Sans could literally feel the transfer of power as his protector allowed himself to become the protected. 

Sans hated to admit his initial reaction included an element of envy. His brother did his duty by the gods, but he never shared Sans’s enthusiasm for them. As he climbed the many steps to the temple, with the ability of hindsight, Sans could see how misguided that was. It was a trial they tested him with, and it was one Sans was able to say he passed now even if he’d faltered on the way. The gods were showing him how pride could obscure things, even in the most faithful of monsters. Sans had started to see their vision when he helped carry his brother up these very steps, staying with him day and night as everyone in the underground pitched in to finish his altar. Sans was being rewarded by his brother’s selection. He was meant to support Papyrus in his transformation from mere mortal to host to the gods. His years with the church and closeness with his brother were merely preparation for the task.

It was an honour Sans was unsure he was worthy of after his brush with sinful thoughts but would grow to see it how perfectly suited he was. He’d known what to do right from the start; helping Papyrus through the worst of the pain, the loss of his autonomy, and now how best to care for him as a living effigy. When his superiors realised how well Sans was doing his duty he’d even been consulted in the finishing touches of the altar. Sans’s suggestions had struck the perfect balance between displaying Papyrus to the masses whilst also respecting his specific needs and comfort. Which is how they had come up with the breathtaking view that lay behind the door Sans was about to open. 

Sans paused while the smile grew on his face. This part always made his soul burst with joy and admiration for Papyrus’s achievements, a genuinely humbling experience no matter how many times he made the journey to see his beloved brother. 

When the stone door creaked open Sans was almost blinded by the dazzling shine from the water surrounding Papyrus’s altar. This was one of the few places in the underground where a small shaft of light shone down from the heavens and Sans had insisted this would be his brother’s final resting place. It was designed to add theatricality to the experience of seeing Papyrus, making it impossible not to bask in his glory. The pool also provided nourishment for the flowers growing around every one of Papyrus’s bones. But what made this place perfect in its divinity was that Papyrus had been commissioned to work here when the gods had chosen to visit him. It was poetic in a way that Papyrus had unknowingly built his own altar. A perfect example of the intricate design of the gods. 

Sans knew it how much this place meant to Papyrus, and seeing it completed with his brother in mind gave him the strength to get through the challenges of life without him. 

Papyrus’s altar wasn’t ever busy at this time of day, but Sans could feel himself unconsciously stiffening upon seeing that a few monsters were still in the chamber. He checked his pocket watch and realised that he was earlier than he thought, so he had no grounds to get angry about the altar not being cleared yet. Besides him Papyrus did have other attendants; monsters lower down in the church who did things like keeping the candles lit and the rest of the altar clean. But the job of cleaning Papyrus was trusted to Sans and Sans alone. Just the thought of anyone else touching his brother the way he had to made Sans’s magic boil. He understood his superiors taking an interest, Papyrus was the figurehead of the church now after all. Even if it made him cringe when the priests make a show of placing a hand on his brother in their congregations. 

Those thoughts weren’t godly, bordering on possessive even, but Sans reasoned that it was only his holy duty overriding his usual sensibilities. 

Sans waited, impatiently, before resorting tapping his foot loudly on the stone floor to get everyone's attention. As soon as the other attendants saw him, they scrambled to their feet, halting whatever they were in the middle of doing to bow low and quickly leave the room. The sounds of the many doors to the altar being closed and locked sent tingles of satisfaction up Sans’s spine. He wasn’t in the position to make many demands, but he insisted Papyrus’s cleaning was done in complete privacy. It was the only time Papyrus wasn’t treated like a spectacle. When it was just him and Sans, he could relax and be himself. Just like he used to. Papyrus enjoyed their time alone together, his brother didn’t need to be able to speak or respond for Sans to know that. Not after all they’d been through. 

None of that mattered now though. They were alone, and Sans could get to work. 

Ignoring Papyrus for a few moments, Sans went over to the water pumps and filled the buckets that were waiting for him there. Some officials suggested it was a moot point with his brother already surrounded by water. Sans disagreed. The water from the pumps was hot and soapy, essential for both cleanliness and comfort. It was a luxury few got to experience in Eden, so of course, his brother deserved the privilege. Papyrus was entirely sustained by the plants inside of him at this point, so he didn’t need much in the way of nourishment. A few indulgences were the least the church could do to show their devotion. When Sans had kindly pointed this out, it resulted in a scramble of different officials trying to backtrack and make amends for their poor judgement. 

While the buckets were being filled, Sans took time to re-adjust his armour for the task at hand. He removed his glove and gauntlet and set them to one side, adjusted his cape to hang behind his back, and set his knife on top of the pedestal. He knew that he was well guarded and had nothing to fear, but a habit of always having his weapon easily accessible wasn’t one he wanted to lose any time soon. Despite that, Sans could already feel himself relaxing from the sound of the running water. He knew full well that this was the beginning of their weekly ritual, and he relished in every single moment. Even the mundane. All this setup so he could pick up the heavy buckets and head towards the divine vision of his brother.

Papyrus was sat in the center of the altar’s structure on the intricate wooden chair he’d crafted himself. The plant that originated in his chest cavity had sprawled outwards, some roots heading towards the pool at his feet and others fusing with the fibers of the chair. Supporting him, binding him in place. Papyrus’s arms were stretched out to his sides, interwoven with more vines and flora to keep them rigidly in place. He no longer burdened by the earthly necessity of clothing either. Sans had helped cut his torn rags from his body himself, all so his full splendour could be admired without any hindrances. 

Though there was no debating that the most magnificent part of Papyrus’s transformation was what grew from his head. 

In what Sans could only imagine was excruciating at first, dozens of flowers had pushed their way out the back of Papyrus’s skull. Sans knew his brother would say it was a worthy sacrifice for how awe-inspiring he looked now. The flowers growing from his skull flourished here more than from anywhere else on his body. They were rich in tone, thick in density, their leaves and buds spilling down on either side of Papyrus’s skull like a built-in headdress. Part of Sans’s duties involved tending to the plants, and he was always surprised by something new each week. He’d never seen some of the varieties before, colours he’d never come across in his life and a growth rate that baffled experts. Some of the flowers were almost at the bottom of Papyrus rib cage now, longer if Sans took into account the way they weaved in and out of his bones. 

Since his head had been in the clouds, Sans hadn’t noticed he’d already reached Papyrus’s altar and had been staring at him, unmoving, for a good few minutes. He felt heat rushing to colour his skull while he coughed and attempted to avert his eyes. Papyrus wasn’t able to speak or move of course, but there was no telling how much he was aware of. Some argued his lack of obvious responses meant he was completely comatose, but Sans knew better. Even if Papyrus didn’t look like he was there, there were times would swear he could _feel_ what his brother was thinking. Sans knew there was a possibility it was only intuition, or he only remembered what his brother used to like, but that didn’t feel right. It felt like a divine connection, the reason behind why the gods had chosen them as a pair. Sans was wasting time just standing there worrying over nothing rather than accepting it was all part of the gods’ will. 

“Hello, Papyrus!” Sans said, hoping to try and move on quickly from their awkward moment, “I hope you’ve been having a blessed day! I know I’m a little early… but by the gods graces my work today was completed swiftly, allowing me to have more time to spend with you!”

Sans beamed at his brother, who stared back unmoving with his empty sockets. Sans expected nothing more, but he liked to let the air hang between them as his mind went through Papyrus’s usual responses. _“It was fine.”_ he’d say, or _“can’t complain that much”_ , then he’d find some way to make a playful pun, his sole intention to make Sans groan in frustration. Sans wasn’t able to imitate that part of his brother’s personality in his mind as easily, but he would still roll his eyes on occasion like Papyrus had told the worst joke in existence. It was a silly habit, Sans knew that, but everyone else only ever prayed to his brother or asked for his guidance. Sometimes it felt like Sans was the only one who remembered who Papyrus was before all of this. 

“So, since we have a little more time today-” Sans continued, coming closer to his brother so he could climb onto the spaces in his chair, “I think I’m going to check some of your flowers first to see if they need tending then we’ll move on to cleaning. The water’s really warm today, I know how much you like that!”

With another smile, Sans pulled himself out the water to stand on the little inlet he could. It had been strange at first, getting used to going this close to his brother without asking if it was ok. But how he couldn’t do his job right if they were worried about trivial stuff like personal space? They were brothers, it was necessary, and Papyrus understood Sans was only there to take care of him. Sans stood on the chair and turned the branches this way and that to check for any irregularities or anything needing a touch of pruning. It had been essential at first to encourage the plant’s growth, but nowadays Papyrus was always in perfect condition.

Still, every time unveil a new flower to wonder at, and today was no exception. Near Papyrus's left shoulder there was a bloom of daffodils, already unfolding and searching for the light. A small reward for Sans’s efforts, one that he allowed himself a moment to wonder on before moving onto his next task. This was one of the reasons Sans knew no one else would be able to do this job instead of him. There was too high a risk of them becoming distracted by his brother’s astounding beauty and never getting anything done. 

Sans jumped back down and moved towards one of the buckets of water as he mused his options. He would often try to keep up a light conversation with his brother, talking about how his week had gone or the things he’d seen he knew Papyrus would like. More recently they’d been discussing Sans being moved into church lodgings in New Home so he could be closer to the altar. He’d confessed he never felt right going back to the home they’d shared on his since Papyrus had left. Sans had told his brother he’d been a little hesitant to give up their home in case Papyrus was still attached to it, but he knew if the church willed it then it was the right thing to do. Sans hadn’t said at the time, but he would’ve been happy to set up camp right here. He was willing to forgo any sense of normalcy and private life if it meant he could be closer to his beloved brother. 

Sans’s breathing hitched as he strung out the cloth he’d been soaking. He didn’t know where that thought had come from… but he knew better than to entertain it further. 

Sans waded through the shallow water towards one of his brother's outstretched arms, preferring to start here and work inwards. For one it meant he could focus on each arm individually without reaching, and it gave a chance for Papyrus to get used to the contact. Sans had to clean everywhere, including his brother’s most intimate spots. While it was never going to feel completely natural, Sans never wanted Papyrus to feel uncomfortable at his touch. Sans realised he hadn’t said anything since their introduction, but since his skull was still flushed, he didn’t trust himself to speak just yet. Instead, he chose to hum one of the hymns from morning worship while he set about cleaning Papyrus’s hands. 

After months of practice, it wasn’t hard for Sans to find his usual rhythm. He’d take the warm cloth and run it along each finger individually, taking care not to snag it on the sharpened distal phalanges. Then he’d work back towards Papyrus’s carpals, rolling them against the cloth until he was confident he’d cleaned every nook and cranny. Sans remembered a time when he didn’t have to handle his brother so delicately. But now the plant had grown to the point where he had flora to navigate carefully on every inch of his brother’s bones. _Not that he minded though!_ If anything this made Sans complete his work to a higher standard, one that was truly worthy of his magnificent brother. 

Still, Papyrus’s state of near-divinity did little to dispel the smugness Sans always felt when he moved onto washing his brother’s arms. Sans knew his brother’s bones had never been this pristine before he’d been chosen. Papyrus’s profession involved grueling, hands-on work. The nicks and dents on his ulna being a testament to that even after all this time. What was missing now thought was the dirt and grime that Sans would lecture him about daily. Sans could hear his brother’s protests at him being this through, that no one's elbow needed to be this clean. Despite the altar chamber being silent, the thought made Sans chuckle as he gave Papyrus an affectionate look. His brother sure knew how to make any situation less awkward. 

When both of Papyrus’s arms were done to a standard Sans was satisfied with he put that cloth down and picked up the one from the other bucket. He’d use the first one to clean most of his brother’s body, but this was reserved to first wash his face and then his more intimate areas. Sans knew this was another unnecessary step. All parts of Papyrus got equally as dirty now he didn’t move, but it was a personal standard Sans used in his own hygiene. It only felt right to do the same for his brother. He hoped the gods would look favourably on personal touches such as this, rather than seeing them as a sign of disrespect. Sans prayed to be shown the right way every day, and since his brother was flourishing, he assumed he was on the right path. He climbed into the small inlet of Papyrus’s chair and knelt down, smiling when Papyrus’s face became level with his own. 

Papyrus’s face was still unmoving, his sockets devoid of any signs life despite their proximity. But Sans didn’t let his grin falter for a second. 

Sans took a deep breath before leaning into his brother’s face to inspect it carefully. Papyrus’s skull was one of the more fiddly parts to clean, and the place that was prone to the most marks throughout the week. The flowers had cracked Papyrus’s parietal bones months ago, but they would still leak when more vines pushed through. Things didn’t seem to bad until Sans carefully moved a string of violet wisteria away from Papyrus’s face. Marking his brother’s motionless face was a long line of dark, dried marrow. Sans huffed out the breath he’d been holding. He was kept too busy with his other duties to be able to check his brother this closely every day, but how had the other attendants not noticed anything at all? The trickle of marrow was a few days old, someone should have informed him! His superiors would never question an emergency clean if it meant their figurehead would be _fucking presentable._

“Papyrus, I’m so sorry, this is unacceptable!” Sans spat, starting to see red. 

Sans stopped himself, taking another deep breath, so he didn’t completely lose his temper. He reminded himself that anger was an emotion that would not serve his current situation. He was here for Papyrus, and he was most certainly not angry at him. Sans needed to focus on the now, to comfort his brother first and find out who was responsible later. He tried his best to smile softly as he soothed his thumb across his brother’s mandible. He let the familiarity of his brother’s bones against his own calm him down before attempting to speak again. 

“It must have been so uncomfortable, I’ll get you cleaned up right away.” 

It took Sans a few moments to rewet his cloth and allow himself another moment to calm down before he went straight to removing the unsightly stain. Marrow was stubborn to remove when it had set in, but Sans was determined to do his brother right. He toiled over the balance between being firm while still keeping a gentle touch since it was such a delicate area. His patience was finally rewarded when the stain lifted, even if it did take him much longer than he’d anticipated. He drew back with a genuine smile when he was done, genuinely proud of his work. He knew Papyrus would appreciate it immensely after being so uncomfortable, the thought alone warming him to his very core.

After that Sans got lost in making sure every inch of his brother’s skull was as pristine as possible. He softly dragged the cloth across his brother’s open mandible, cleaning each fang meticulously. He paid extra attention to the areas where dirt or dust would settle, checking behind each plant to make sure there weren’t any more surprises. He soaked his cloth again when he was almost done, knowing that he needed to take extra care with the final part of Papyrus’s skull. 

Sans would’ve never dreamed of cleaning anyone’s sockets before he was charged to take care of his brother. Skeleton monsters didn’t have eyes like their fleshier counterparts, but that didn’t mean the magic that made it possible for them to see wasn’t as sensitive. If anything it was more so. It wasn’t like Sans could leave that area unclean though, that would be a severe neglect of his duties. He wasn’t sure if the lack of eye lights meant that Papyrus no longer felt the discomfort, but Sans observed him carefully each time all the same. He worked slowly, rubbing his brother’s sockets in an outward motion ever so gently. He found his confidence after the first stroke, mindful of the pressure he was using and making sure not to miss any spots.

It was all going as usual until Sans was nearly done with both eyes. There was something in his brother’s socket that flickered softly, like the wick of a candle the moment before it was snuffed out. For a second Sans was sure he must’ve imagined it, but then he saw it again. A tiny sliver of light in the depths of his brother's skull. Logic dictated that there had to be a reasonable explanation; a trick of the vast amount of light reflecting off the water below them for example. But something in Sans’s soul lurched forward at the thought of his brother showing signs that he was really there with him again. 

Without thinking, Sans drew closer to have another look, desperately seeking the confirmation he needed. If he could just witness the light in again, or see it more clearly, then he’d- he’d-

Reality smacked Sans like a solid blow to the skull. He was practically straddling his brother with his hands cupping either side of Papyrus’s skull, breathing hot and heavy from the excitement. If anyone saw them entangled like this, who knows what they would think. Not to mention how inconsiderate he’d been of his brother in all this. Sans had done the one thing he’d sworn never to do. He’d forgotten himself and treated Papyrus as nothing more than an inanimate object. Which his brother most certainly was _not_. 

“Oh- sor- sorry,” the shaky voice left Sans’s mouth, hardly recognisable as his own, “I got a bit distracted. Um, don’t worry about it. I’ll move onto your ribcage now and-and I’ll watch out for your ticklish spots!”

_Urgh, what was he even saying?!_ Sans averted his eyes while he switched cloths, taking longer than he needed again so he’d have a chance to compose himself. He felt so stupid. He should’ve just explained himself instead of making things worse by pretending nothing was wrong. His scrambling with a bad joke only made him look guilty. Like he had something to hide. _Like their position meant more than-_ NO. Sans shook his head and climbed back into the seat with his brother to continue his cleaning. 

Papyrus’s ribcage always felt like it took the longest. It was where the plants were the most fused with his bones, and it was also the place where Sans really noticed their size difference. Papyrus wasn’t an overly large monster, but he dwarfed Sans’s petite frame in comparison. There was a time Sans had been envious of his brother’s stature, knowing full well natural strength would have been advantageous for the intensive training he went through. He was over that now, having learnt how to harness his smaller stature to his advantage. The difference in their bone structure was most evident in their chest though, Sans often found himself thinking he’d easily fit inside his brother’s ribcage. The idea was unusually comforting, it always had been. Sans always admired how physical labour had sculpted his brother’s body, and more than once he’d sought comfort in the arms that could carry him so easily. 

Minutes passed with Sans absentmindedly running the cloth around his brother’s ribs. He felt a bit more secure than he had earlier now the excitement had calmed down. Plus their position felt far more comfortable now he was only perched on the chair, not inches away from Papyrus's face. Still, their closeness had made him notice something he hadn’t before. Papyrus smelt particularly good today. An odd observation, but one he couldn’t ignore the longer he spent in his presence. Sans always though his brother gave off the comforting smell of home. While his scent was understandably more floral now, there was still something still so distinctly Papyrus underneath it all. Without realising Sans had inched closer and was inhaling heavily nasal bone to try and distinguish what it was so alluring today. He felt tingles all over his bones when he exhaled with a drawn-out sigh, no closer to his answer, but feeling even more at ease than before. 

That’s when it happened. A movement in Papyrus’s ribcage, so subtle he would have missed it if he wasn’t already highly strung from the glint in his brother's eye. Sans pressed his hand flat across his brother’s sternum, and sure enough, he felt a slow rise and fall of the bone against his hand. It was irregular, but it definitely felt like Papyrus was breathing. It wasn’t a necessity for skeletons but rather a shared habit. It was only really noticeable when they were scared, had exerted themselves, or... 

_If they were aroused._

Sans felt his skull heating up ten times hotter than before. Of course that wasn’t the reason! He really was that filthy gutter rat he’d tried so hard to forget to even think such a thing. It had to be one of the other reasons, there was no way Papyrus was feeling like that. There was no way that their time together was just as stimulating for him as it was for Sans. 

Sans audibly gasped, his hands shaking as they tried their best to continue washing like nothing was wrong. He’d known he’d developed a dependence on his brother over the years, an attachment that was bordering on too much, but _this?_ Sans was disgusted with himself. Furious. _And yet…_ Could he really blame himself that much with his brother being who he was? Even before he’d been chosen Papyrus was an amazing monster. Always so kind, helping Sans through the horrors of what they’d had to do to survive. Never once using the things Sans had done against him. And now Papyrus was elevated to an untouchable level of greatness, would it be so bad if Sans admitted that he felt awe in his presence? 

Sans stifled the feeling of wanting to groan into his hands. Awe was fine, but Sans knew this wasn’t it. If he’d stamped out his less than brotherly feelings years ago, then he wouldn’t be having trouble worshipping his brother with pure intentions now. Sans had tried, he’d gone through months of pushing his brother away and acting cold around him. But it was never enough, he always came running back to Papyrus as soon as he had the chance. Sans dared to sneak a look back upwards, hoping by some miracle he’d be able to read his brother’s thoughts in his face. There was no change, like he should’ve expected, but Sans felt even more unsettled than before. He was no closer to finding out why his brother had apparently started breathing, or why that prospect was sending shivers up his spine. 

It was time for Sans to move on from Papyrus’s ribcage, but he hesitated. He’d usually switch cloths at this point, working his way downwards while trying not to think about where he was touching. His impure thoughts were starting to affect him though, and no matter how much he tried to think of other reasons they were just background noise. He was fixated on the thought that Papyrus was enjoying his cleaning more than usual. Sans couldn’t deny he wanted to see what would happen if he decided to forget proper decorum and run his hand down his brother’s spine. He needed to know if this was all in his head... or if Papyrus was trying everything he could to get Sans’s attention. 

_To get him to continue._

It all felt like too much Sans to handle. If the feeling in his soul was right, then surely this couldn’t be a bad thing. If it was what Papyrus wanted, then it couldn’t be something the gods would frown upon. But if Sans was wrong- 

-Sans decided to clean his brother’s legs first and hoped to the Gods that Papyrus wouldn’t notice how shakily he got off the chair and knelt down before him. 

Far too late, Sans realised this was a mistake. He’d thought the change in position would allow him to focus properly, but if anything it made everything worse. Sans couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t stop thinking about how right it felt for him to be kneeling between his brother’s legs. Or of other things he could-no wanted- to do in this position. Papyrus’s scent was even stronger here, interfering with Sans’s ability to think clearly. It was intoxicating, drawing him closer whilst dulling his sense of reason. Sans started feeling light-headed as he worked the cloth along Papyrus’s thick femurs, and he could see the way Papyrus’s ribcage jerked like his breathing was hitching. Sans would’ve sworn he could hear whispers begging him to come closer, to touch the places he’d been avoiding. 

_What was stopping him?_

The cloth was re-wet haphazardly, an afterthought at this point as Sans leant forward and went straight for Papyrus’s spine. He felt his brother tremble as his hands sought out sensitive spots, slipping the warm cloth between his disks until he felt jolts of Papyrus’s magic prickling his phalanges. Sans could hear his brother’s voice going round in his head, distant and soft, calling his name. Beckoning him closer. 

Sans moved the rest of his body with his hands until his face was almost level with Papyrus’s pelvis. The scent was even stronger, a sign that Sans took to mean the was because Papyrus was enjoying himself. That Sans’s actions were turning him on. Sans inhaled sharply as he moved his hand downwards to Papyrus’s ilium, revealing in the way the bone seemed to arch into his palm. It was then that Sans saw something astounding. Not only were the flowers contributing to the intoxicating aroma, but he now he noticed that parts of the plant were moving towards where his hand was touching. Sans watched with mouth agape as they helped Papyrus’s body move against him. He continued what he was doing, seeking out the sensitive spots until he saw some of the buds opening and releasing pollen into the air. 

Any thoughts Sans had about his lewd behaviour being sinful went out the window at this point. Not only was Papyrus responding, but now he was witnessing obvious signs from the gods themselves that this was the right thing. How could Sans have thought this to be impure? It was a form of worship, an act of love. A way of satisfying his brother in the most intimate and soul-fulfilling way possible. Sans was only kicking himself that he hadn’t noticed the signs earlier.

With hesitations dissipating, Sans’s sole objective became making his brother feel as incredible as possible. He dipped his cloth back into the warm water and returned with lidded sockets as he moved his hands towards his brother’s pelvic girdle. He usually tried to get Papyrus’s intimate parts clean as quickly as possible, but now he had every reason to take his time. He started where he’d left off, rubbing the cloth inwards until he reached Papyrus’s sacrum. He could feel his brother’s inability to stay still just as much as he could see the plant moving around them. Sans set his sights on the vine weaving in out of Papyrus’s sacrum holes and was struck with an idea so perverse he was lucky his hands moved faster than he had time to reconsider. He delicately pinched the vine between two of his fingers, careful not to damage it, and tugged ever-so-gently so the thin green plant would slide through the hole in the bone. 

Papyrus gasped. It was so soft but so startling in the silence of the room. It was real, it had to be. Sans was sure of it. He felt it in his very core. 

“Papy-” Sans whispered, the long forgotten nickname rolling off his tongue like it was the most natural thing in the whole world, “Papyrus, oh gods, I-” he paused, not knowing what he could say that wouldn’t spoil the precious moment between them, “I-I want to make you happy, is this what you want? Does this make you happy?”

Papyrus didn’t answer him exactly, but the feeling of the vine wiggling in his fingers was good enough for Sans. After that he lost all restraint in his teasing, quickly finding any sensitive spots and stroking them relentlessly. His senses were flooded from all sides, disorientating him, making him forget what was considered appropriate behaviour.

Sans had given up pretending he wasn’t enjoying this too. His face was pressed high against his brother’s femur, and he was practically whimpering with need. He was inhaling Papyrus’s scent deeply, still not able to get enough. Sans’s vision was hazy, but he didn’t miss a second of watching Papyrus succumb to his wandering hands. He couldn’t believe he was getting to touch his brother this way, it scratched an itch he denied ever existed until now. And the satisfaction he felt when he forgot the cloth all together to rub two fingers up Papyrus’s pubic symphysis was unlike anything he’d ever known. 

The air was thick between, bursting with excited magic. Sans could feel magic gathering where his fingers were rubbing, his brother’s body stirring to life from the stimulation he was giving him. Sans was so overcome with emotion that he was the one getting to do this. He was giving Papyrus the pleasure he deserved. Sans could feel tears hot tears pricking the corners of his sockets, but he didn't want to stop. Papyrus’s pelvis was hot against his fingertips, magic gathering there becoming more palpable by the second. Sans could feel weight starting to gather in his own pelvis in response, but he pushed that feeling down. This wasn’t about him, this was about his brother. Like hell was he going to assume anything until he-

_\- Ohhhh_

Sans whined in need as his brothers magic became visible, swirling until it settled on the mass of a thick cock. Already leaking from the tip. He had no time to feel sheepish from his outburst when the vines he’d been playing with earlier circled round the ecto construct, holding it in place. A heavy burst of pollen filled the air, so much so that Sans could actually see the particles shimmering in the light. He inhaled deeply, craving the high the plant was giving him almost as much as Papyrus himself. The effect was an overwhelming compulsion to be closer to his brother, which Sans translated by wrapping his hand around the cock in front of him. He whimpered at the feeling; Papyrus felt huge against his slender fingers, the entwined vines making so he couldn’t even close his hand. Not to mention the heat of Papyrus’s magic, burning its way from his fingertips right to his core. 

In fact Sans felt hot all over, his armour rubbing against his heated bones unbearably.

It felt painful when Sans to detached himself from his brother considering they’d only just started. Sans planned to begin with his pants, but that proved more difficult than he expected when he realised his own magic had already formed. He usually preferred to form a cock for ease of getting off at the end of a rough day, but it was no surprise that a dripping cunt had been summoned in response to the sight of his brother. It did, however, make the practicalities of removing his now drenched pants frustratingly difficult in Sans’s inebriated state. So much so that he gave up on removing anything else as soon as he’d shook his legs free. 

The discomfort Sans felt vanished the moment his hands wrapped back around his brother’s cock. Gone were the exploring and tentative touches. Sans squeezed the throbbing length in his hands, making magic dribble down from the tip and stain his hand. He felt his mouth go dry, the urge to taste his brother so strong his tongue was lolling out his mouth before he’d even reached Papyrus’s crotch. Sans would’ve been ashamed by both his eagerness and the sound he made when Papyrus’s cock entered his mouth under any other circumstances,. But not today. Sans would’ve happily told everyone; his superiors, the congregation, the whole fucking underground, to screw themselves if it meant he could spend one more second sucking his brother off. Papyrus’s taste was almost as addictive as his smell, and the only thing that mattered to Sans right now was making his brother feel good. 

And his efforts were definitely paying. 

Sans had been aware of vines crawling towards him for a while now, but that didn’t stop him from gasping around his brother’s cock when he felt them pressing against his skull. His vision was already obscured, so he didn’t have to do much imagining to mistake the vines for fingers. Fingers that were slowly pressing him down so he’d take more of Papyrus into his mouth. Sans didn’t feel worthy of the honour at first, dumbfounded that the gods would bless him with such a rewarding experience. He was really starting to see the plants as an extension of his brother, that they were doing for him what he no longer could. That explained why they’d been hesitant in showing themselves before today. But when Sans had shown how much he wanted this, his brother couldn’t keep hold back any longer. Papyrus wanted this just as much as he did, he had to, he wouldn’t be encouraging Sans to fuck him with his mouth if he didn’t. 

_Right?_

Sans had a crisis of conscience while he wondered just exactly how he’d gone from cleaning his brother to sucking him off in a holy place. He stilled momentarily while that same inner voice told him what he was doing was immoral. Luckily, Looking up at his brother from this position gave Sans all the confidence he needed back. From this angle it looked like Papyrus was looking back down at him, his ribcage rising and falling rapidly as he panted with excitement. Sans felt the vines around his skull push him back down onto Papyrus’s waiting cock, further solidifying how foolish he’d been to doubt his brother’s wishes. _No more,_ Sans thought when his brother’s cock hit the back of his skull. He was done with trying to decide what was right and wrong and willing to fully submit himself to the will of the gods. 

It wasn’t long before Sans felt his sockets slipping shut. No matter how much he wanted to watch what he was doing, he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. Not when he could feel his own body throbbing so desperately with need. Sans’s free hand had long left his side in favor of trying to travel down towards his own slick magic. He didn’t want to make this experience about his own pleasure, but he couldn’t resist the urge to touch himself any longer.

Sans hummed loudly around his brother’s cock when the tips of his fingers sought out the dripping lips of his formed pussy. He bucked into his hand eagerly, desperate for the stimulation he needed. He restricted himself in only touching the outside of his magic, not wanting to harm himself on his sharpened talons like he had done in the past. It wasn’t that Sans didn’t find the pain enjoyable though, just catching a sharpened tip on his entrance had him moaning like a whore around Papyrus’s cock. He was just under no illusions over how big his brother was, and how his magic had to be in perfect condition to take him properly. 

The alluring mix of pleasure and pain wasn’t entirely off the table though. Sans was already reeling from the pressure on his skull, it was becoming less soft and gentle the more he tried to pleasure Papyrus. Sans would never admit it, but he could hear his soul hammering in his chest at the prospect of being roughly handled by his brother. He could hear Papyrus too, even if he didn’t dare open his sockets to confirm if it was real or not. His brother was moaning, cursing under his breath, begging Sans for more. Sans was more than willing to give it to him, there was no denying that any more. But his mouth no longer felt like a good enough way to please his brother despite the way Papyrus was throbbing against his tongue. Sans drew back with a lopsided smile when the vines let him. As if they sensed what he planned to do next. 

Sans would let Papyrus use every one of his orifices if he asked to, but he had a particular one in mind right now. He wanted to be as close as physically possible to his brother, it was the driving force behind him climbing back onto the altar and straddling Papyrus’s lap. He felt giddy with excitement, feverish with need, and unable to believe this was really happening. He couldn’t comprehend that in a few short moments the throbbing length below would be buried in his magic. _Like he’d always wanted._ Sans shuddered in anticipation, which the vines took as hesitation. They wrapped themselves around his legs, giving him encouragement by way of pulling him down, so his magic was pressed against Papyrus’s cock. 

It was a sacrilegious thought, but Sans knew the gates of heaven couldn't compare to such bliss. 

“Gods, I need you-” Sans moaned, rubbing the slick from his dripping cunt across Papyrus’s cock. He whined when he felt the head pushing at his entrance, wanting nothing more than to feel his brother inside him as soon as possible, “I’m going to- fuck- I’ve got to-”

Sans didn’t get to finish his sentence. He’d only shifted his pelvis slightly to feel more of Papyrus against him when the vines around his legs helped him along again. Their version of 'help; was slamming Sans down hard until Papyrus bottomed out inside him. Sans’s eye lights disappeared completely, his mouth hanging open in a silent scream. It wasn’t so much that it hurt, not in a bad way, it was just so unexpected. When he dared to breathe again, his vision returned, the sight before him making his walls tighten around the thick length inside him. 

Papyrus was looking at him. His eye lights were faint, but they were really there. The plant inside him was moving, and he was shaking in response to the stimulation Sans’s body was giving him. 

“Papyrus…” Sans gasped as more of his lower half was engulfed by the vines, holding him close and sliding against his bones. It prompted him to move the robe of his armour aside, moaning at the sight Papyrus’s cock buried in his pelvic inlet, stretching his green-tinted ecto thin, “Oh gods. You’re so deep, It feels so good!” 

In response Papyrus’s vines tightened their hold around him, urging Sans to move. His soul felt like it was going to leap into his mouth when his hands found Papyrus’s ribcage, giving him the leverage he needed to start fucking himself on his brother’s cock. Sans was panting as soon as started moving, the feeling of complete fullness being unlike anything he’d ever experience. More pollen was being released into the all around them, heightening his senses even further. He felt the drag of the vines wrapped around Papyrus’s cock as they slid against inner walls, much cooler than magic and providing a stark contrast in sensation. Not to mention Papyrus was able to reach spots inside Sans he didn’t know he had. Sans was powerless against the assault of pleasure, his mouth already agape and body shaking as he rode his brother as hard as he could. 

The haze of pleasure was so intense for Sans that he almost missed the moment his brother’s noises joined his own. There was no mistaking the distinct sound Papyrus’s deep groan though, not when Sans had spent years coveting that gravelly tone. His eye lights shot up to his brother’s face as he rocked down again, hearing it again despite Papyrus’s mouth remaining unmoving. Sans couldn’t contain himself, he started slamming himself down on Papyrus’s cock without the need of assistance, desperate to hear those sounds again and again. He was rewarded liberally, his brother’s cries travelling through his body and heading straight for his cunt. 

Sans was brought to the brink of orgasm far faster than he anticipated, his body trembling with the need for release. He forced himself to slow down, chastising himself for momentarily forgetting who he was doing this for. Papyrus’s pleasure was his goal, his own enjoyment just a welcomed bonus. It would not do for him to cum before Papyrus did. Sans was just about slowed to a stop, mentally preparing himself to apologise for getting carried away when he felt thick vines tightening around his spine. He was gripped firmly and pushed back down, over and over without a moment's respite. It was precisely the type of treatment Sans had been craving, to have all his power stripped so violently from him. That combined with the feeling of Papyrus’s cock hitting just the right spot made him cum so hard he felt it right to the tips of his curling toes. 

Rather than allow for rest; a soon as Sans stopped convulsing the vines started moving him again.

“Oh gods, Papyrus, fuck _Papy_ ” Sans cried, the last of his filter long forgotten, “I need you! Fuck, I-I love you! ” he confessed, his sockets watering as the foreign emotion flooded his soul, “Don’t stop, please, please, please- ah!” 

More thick vines burst forward from Papyrus’s chest, wrapping around any available part of Sans’s body to further control his flailing limbs. Sans gave up trying to move, succumbing to being manipulated like a rag doll. Something to be used by his brother and nothing more. Having never really come down from his first high Sans could already feel a second climax building inside him. He was blabbering his brother’s praises, but he could still hear Papyrus’s voice underneath it all. It was building to a crescendo, his grunts turning into whines as his cock twitched deep inside Sans’s magic. 

Sans had lost the ability to choose how this was going to happen, but since he could sense his brother was getting close, he held off as long as he could. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he didn’t want to miss the moment his beautiful brother reached his peak. He could feel his own magic screaming at him to let go from the overwhelming stimulation, but Sans was stubborn. He felt his body locking up, betraying him as more of his control started slipping. Sans yelped when his body was slammed down a final time, held still while the base of his brother’s cock swelled inside him. The feeling of hot magic spurting inside him sent him screaming over the edge. 

For a moment everything went white. Sans forgot who he was, where he was. He forgot everything but Papyrus. 

When he eventually came round it was to the realisation that Papyrus was still cumming inside him. He knew he’d felt a magical release at first, but this was different. It felt thick and slow, and there was so much of it. It had to be something to do with the plant that had orchestrated the whole thing, and Sans felt giddy again at the thought of being worthy of such a thing. He whimpered when his body tried to squirm from the constant stimulation only to find he was locked in place. Papyrus was silent, his eye lights gone, but the vines around Sans’s legs were tight and the swelling in his cock unrelenting. Sans wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

As his senses slowly returned Sans found himself hit with a wall of panic. He looked around the room, thankful to see it still empty, but he knew that was only because it was well guarded. He knew he’d been loud, and too far gone to notice if anyone had opened the door to sneak a peek at the debauchery he’d been engaged in. But then, if that was the case, why hadn’t anyone tried to stop them?! He knew he’d have to report what had happened to his higher-ups if they weren’t aware already… but maybe he was looking at this the wrong way. He’d been to so many sermons where priests had praised Papyrus and prayed for more blessings. It was unconventional, probably broke a million church rules, but what had happened between Sans and his brother was most undoubtedly an act from the gods. 

Sans shivered. The prospect of this being added to his duties was both exciting and daunting. He wanted his brother more than ever before, but he knew what the church was like. There was an almost certain possibility that officials would want to witness it themselves, something Sans could feel his skull flushing over. But there was no denying his soul fluttered too. After all, he loved his brother, far more than he should, but this was a way they could be together and show their devotion to the world. He was just going to have to work on acting less like a goddamn whore next time. 

One thing was for sure though. Sans could feel some of Papyrus’s cum leaking out of him from the sheer amount still filling him up. He was going to have to start the cleaning process over as soon as he was able to move again.


End file.
